


Leaves of Memory

by oceanofdarkness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Secret Santa, Rumbelle Secret Santa 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 12:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17121167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanofdarkness/pseuds/oceanofdarkness
Summary: Someone else wakes up in Storybrooke the night the Savior comes to town.Rumble Secret Santa





	Leaves of Memory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hikari_no_Chibi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikari_no_Chibi/gifts).



> Crankynerdgirl prompted 'no trespassing, visitors prosecuted'
> 
> I read this prompt, and my mind went straight to an old AU plot bunny that dates all the way back to Skin Deep. I had gotten so far as to write the first few paragraphs (around 500 words) where someone else wakes up from the curse the night Emma arrives in Storybrooke and put it aside. By the time I was ready to go back to it, we were at the end of season 1 and canon had pretty much shut me down, so it ended up in the random unfinished folder where my plot bunnies go to die.
> 
> I know it will come as no surprise to anyone that I haven't cared much for canon for a few years now, so I thought 'Why the hell not?' and went back to a time when the show and characters I loved held so much promise and there were almost too many possibilities to decide which ones to play with and resurrected this abandoned little bunny.
> 
> So, I present to you a total AU where everything after Skin Deep is up for grabs, depending on whether I liked it or not.
> 
> I have had a blast working on this and revisiting the good old days, and I hope you dig it a little bit too.
> 
> Happy Christmas, Cranky! xo

_**“The leaves of memory seemed to make a mournful rustling in the dark”** \- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_

  
She had had the same dream every night for as long as she could remember...

Her arms were held to her sides with iron bands. She had no sense of place or occasion, only the cold metal against her skin and a crippling sense of immobility. She awoke each night, gasping and drenched with sweat, feeling horribly impotent. Every night for 28 years with no deviation - until the night that the Storybrooke clock tower began to mark time again.

On that night, her dream was not the purposeless sense of imprisonment she had come to both accept & dread.

On that night, she had returned to the Forbidden Fortress. She relived her brief battle with Regina for the Dark Curse hidden in her staff & woke with the evil queen’s words echoing in her ears...

_“Love is weakness, Maleficent. I thought you knew that.”_

Most importantly, in her dream on that night, she had heard her true name.

When she had lost the Dark Curse to Regina, she realized that she had little time to prepare. She had worked with great haste to make some small provision to escape the worst of its effects. Maleficent had known full well that she could not escape it entirely, for it’s power was too great and it’s reach too long, but she did believe that she might protect a small seed of memory. She would leave a trail of breadcrumbs through the dark that might one day lead her back to her true self. She used the full force of her considerable power to plant a trigger in the recesses of her mind that she hoped would cause the seed of memory to grow and blossom... her true name. She wove her magic around that seed reaching tendrils out through her mind, leaving tiny trails back to the essence of all that she was. This would be her shield and perhaps her salvation.

Would her name be enough? Yes, she decided. There was great power in a name. Regina would not say, but she had long suspected that it was the imp Rumplestiltskin who had given her the Dark Curse. Maleficent knew of no one else in all the realms possessed of the power or the perversity to conceive of such a thing. Rumplestiltskin knew the power in a name all too well. To use her true name as a means of escape seemed fitting, given its author. A name to unlock the magic she had woven around her memories was an elegant solution. So be it.

And she had been successful at long last. She awoke that night fully herself. Mallory Brand would lose no more sleep to nightmares, for Maleficent had no further need of them.Her energies from that night forward would best be spent in contemplation of how to thwart her old friend’s bid for revenge and find a way back to her rightful place in the realm of her birth. For now, she would watch and bide her time. After all, time had been frozen here for decades. What were a few more weeks and months? She would find herself back in her Forbidden Fortress again soon enough.

  
=========

  
Maleficent had been a great sorceress, possessed of cunning and patience. Though she had been stripped of her magic in this new land, she was still in possession of her other strengths. She began to take more of an interest in town gossip, the arrival of Miss Emma Swan in particular. The timing was no coincidence, Maleficent was sure. It was Miss Swan’s arrival that had set time in motion once more in Storybrooke. What other feats might the town’s new arrival be able to preform, given the proper circumstances? The possibilities were delicious to contemplate. Emma Swan must be the one prophesied to break the curse, the child of Charming and Snow White. Surely Regina knew this too. Yes, the mysterious Miss Swan should keep Regina busy for some time... a great boon, certainly. It should give Maleficent the opportunity to watch Regina more closely than she might otherwise dare without risking notice. Now that the clock tower was marking the passage of time, the final battle was coming, and Maleficent must decide how best to position herself in the fight.

She would watch the enigmatic Mr. Gold as well. Maleficent was certain that he too was in possession of his memories and just as certain that Regina, in her lust for revenge, would foolishly assume that he would not be, that she must be the only person here in Storybrooke to know and understand the suffering of it’s residents. It had been her greatest desire, after all. Her old friend had been too blinded by pain and rage to be wary of the Dark One. A foolish mistake to be sure. Maleficent understood that it would be Regina’s undoing, even if Regina herself did not. Her grief, after all, was borne of lost love... and love, as Regina was so fond of reminding her, was weakness.

In time, it would be necessary to make herself known to the Dark One, but that necessity was not yet upon her. No, better to play her part in this Storybrooke masquerade awhile longer. No need to arouse suspicions just yet. She would fare much better with Regina put off her guard for as long as possible, and she had no desire to draw the attention of the imp until she’d had a chance to formulate her strategy.

  
=========

  
She needn’t have bothered trying to avoid Mr. Gold’s notice. He made it his business to know everything that went on in Storybrooke... the better to protect his interests. Gold felt her eyes on him in town and saw the fresh awareness there. He had to admit that he was impressed. Maleficent had been less flamboyant after she’d gotten past that little slight with Princess Aurora, but he had always known that she was not to be underestimated. Though they’d had no dealings to speak of in the Enchanted Forest, he knew her well by reputation, and she him. Her power was considerable if she had overcome the Dark Curse. He would have to find out how she had managed it when she made herself known to him. In the meantime, he would allow her the illusion of his ignorance.

While Maleficent’s awakening was surely intriguing, he was far more interested in Miss Emma Swan at the moment. He had laid the groundwork to lure her here 10 years prior when he brought Henry to Regina, and more recently when he provided the boy’s book for Mary Margaret. Now he was taking great pleasure in the first stirrings of magic that had come to Storybrooke with their new arrival. It was faint and too distant still to truly discern, but the ghost of magic floated just beyond his reach, nonetheless.

Miss Swan’s... Emma’s presence here in town should provide a great deal of entertainment. He did so enjoy seeing Regina squirm, and she had been far too complacent for far too long. He had not forgotten that her machinations had cost him much, and when he was finished toying with her, he would make her pay the price for her treachery.

She believed that she had finally gotten the better of him. It would give him untold satisfaction to watch the realization dawn when she realized that he never made a deal that didn’t benefit him more than it’s cost. He knew very well how to recognize a desperate soul, and he had used the desperation of her grief and rage to great advantage. Regina still believed that enacting the Dark Curse had been to her own benefit.

A decidedly wicked gleam lit his dark eyes at the thought.  
Perhaps it was time he had a little chat with Madam Mayor - just enough to set her well and truly on edge.

Gold did have some concern that Miss Swan might decline to remain in Storybrooke, but Regina’s determination to be rid of her had aroused her suspicion and just a hint of her maternal instincts as well. Now that time had once again been set in motion, perhaps he could arrange some motivation beyond Regina’s plotting to drive the point home.

Cinderella’s child was long past due. Surely Miss Swan would feel some kinship with a young unwed mother. That should provide sufficient incentive to keep Emma Swan close to her son for the time being. If he was careful in his planning, he might even be able to exchange his contract with young Ashley Boyd for something far more valuable.

It had been decades since he had woven his magic, but he could still spin an intricate web and this one had been many years in the planning. He would take great care to place each strand just so.

 

  
=========

  
Gold was in the back room of his shop the morning that the sinkhole opened. He did not need the noise that rang out through the town to tell him that a corridor had opened between their worlds. He felt the tickle of magic that rushed forward to greet him like an old friend. He still could not command it as he had once done - nor it him - but it was closer and stronger than it had been for some time, and a soft titter escaped him as the imp’s grin spread across his lips.

What had Emma been up to this morning, he wondered?

Yes, things were progressing nicely. With the curse weakening, several of the good citizens of fair Storybrooke were already starting to drift back towards those things that they had loved and lost.

Cinderella had finally given birth to her little Princess and reunited with her Prince. Gold had manipulated that little domestic drama to perfection, and congratulated himself once again on his deal with the savior.

Charming was awake as well, already drifting back to Snow White despite Regina’s best efforts at keeping them apart. The woman had even dredged up that insipid daughter of Midas to throw between them!

Yes, after 28 years in a purgatory of boredom, things were definitely starting to pick up here in the sleepy little town of Storybrooke, Maine.

  
=========

  
Belle had no idea how long it had actually been since Her Majesty had deigned to pay her a visit in this strange dungeon, but she was certain that it had not been long enough since she had looked upon that horrid witch. She took her time in turning to the door at the sound of the panel scraping open. She was in no hurry to suffer the petty torments of the Evil Queen again. An audience with that witch was hardly worth interrupting a perfectly good daydream for. Her Majesty would not allow her any books, preferring to deny her even the smallest comfort or pleasure, so she had to content herself with her fantasies.

Her imagination and memory were all she had left of her former life... of _him_. Of course the witch had tried to steal her memories as well, but she was determined that those were not to be bartered. Her memories were her own, and she would not be stripped of them in service to the Evil Queen’s machinations. Her stubborn refusal to surrender them was the excuse the witch offered for the need to keep her locked away. They were not true memories, she claimed, but delusions- proof of the mental illness that held her here. But Belle knew the truth. That vile harpy kept her here to keep her from Rumplestiltskin. To what purpose, Belle could not say. Perhaps the Queen herself did not yet know. It did no good to speculate in any case, as Her Majesty never spoke to Belle enough to offer any clues.

She could not know that Regina had chosen to leave Belle her memories as an act of cruelty. The thought of leaving Rumplestiltskin’s love in eternal torment was too delightful a pleasure to deny herself. And besides, what better excuse to keep her locked away than severe mental illness? Belle’s stubborn insistence that she had come from a magical realm where she was a princess bartered into slavery with a demonic imp and later imprisoned by an evil queen was all that Regina would require to prove her too delusional to ever leave confinement. Oh, she had an identity here of course... Isabella French, daughter of the town florist Moe French. She had been taken out of the college she attended in Boston in her junior year. Her major in library science abandoned to a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenic disorder. Currently residing on the locked mental ward of Storybrooke Hospital. Antipsychotic medications had proven ineffective, leaving no alternative but long term confinement. Mr. French had been too devastated by his daughter’s condition to properly manage her care, and so Regina Mills had agreed to assume responsibility for the poor girl as her legal guardian.

Belle knew that the Evil Queen was smirking at her through the panel in the heavy door, watching her as she might watch a captive animal for entertainment. Perhaps Her Majesty was bored today and wanted to visit her pet madwoman as a brief diversion, she thought bitterly. Finally bringing her own eyes to the cold ones that stared in at her, Belle trilled “Your Majesty,” in a sickly sweet tone of voice. “To what do I owe this unexpected audience?”

She expected no answer, but Regina surprised her.

“A broken trinket...” her lips stretched over white teeth in an evil snarl. “... Dearie.”

Suddenly Belle’s eyes were wide as saucers and she was rising from her gloomy perch to move closer to the door.

“What did you say?” she hissed, eyeing Regina with unguarded suspicion.

“I said, ‘How are you today, Dear?’” Her tone was politely solicitous, all traces of the wicked leer gone.

“You said no such thing,” Bell whispered warily. “What broken trinket?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Isabella.” Regina replied smoothly. “Perhaps you’d care to enlighten me as to what trinket you’re babbling about?”

Belle was no fool and she knew that the Queen was not either. That wicked cow would no more attempt such an obvious bid for information than Belle would take the bait. But she was up to something. Belle would have to proceed very carefully.

“Trinket, Your Majesty? You must have misunderstood. I spoke of no trinket.”

The Queen pursed her lips and a cold gleam returned to her eyes.

“Have it your way... Dearie.”

Belle moved away from the door and did not speak again. She regarded her visitor from a place safe in the shadows against the far wall. What could this vile witch hope to gain by confirming that her memories were real when she had invested so much time and energy in the fictions she wove to replace them? A broken trinket? Dearie? She might as well have spoken his name! And how could that harpy possibly know of their cup? She would have to be very careful indeed.

Rumplestiltskin had told her that the Evil Queen meant to use her against him when he accused her of being a spy. Perhaps he had not been so foolish after all to have believed it. Perhaps Belle had been the foolish one not to have seen it herself.

The Queen’s cold voice broke into her thoughts.

“Im obviously wasting my time here. I can see you‘ve made no improvement since my last visit. I’ll leave you to your delusions, Isabella.”

And with that, the panel was slammed shut, leaving Belle to wonder what exactly had just happened. What had she betrayed to her captor?

Regina strode purposefully back down the corridor the way she had come. She had needed to see the girl for herself, and now that she had reassured herself that her leverage was still in place, she felt on surer footing, once again- not to mention that she had always derived a certain satisfaction from tormenting the girl.

After her little talk with the imp, she had been shaken, though she was determined that he not see it. Had his memories returned with the movement of the clock tower? Or had he known the truth all along? She certainly wouldn’t put it past him to have arranged a loophole in the curse. She should have known that he wouldn’t be willing to offer up his power to her in this new realm. So he’d been plotting all these years, had he? Much as she hated to admit it, Regina knew that Rumplestiltskin had more patience than she for the long game. But she had something better than patience... she held his true love at her mercy.  
His ridiculous display over that stupidly sentimental keepsake of the girl had told her all she needed to know.

“Will they never learn?” she murmured to herself. “Love is weakness.”

She had not yet decided how best to use this girl against Gold, but she could afford to take her time with that. An opportunity would certainly present itself. They always did.

  
=========

  
Maleficent found herself wondering if it was some peculiar mechanism of the curse or Regina’s own design that had installed her as director of the Storybrooke Hospital pharmacy, doling out pain meds and sleeping pills on the wards and tranquilizers to mental patients. Oh yes, and fending off the decidedly unwelcome advances of the persistent Dr. Whale on an almost daily basis. She found the name Mallory dreary in general, but hated it all the more because of the frequency with which it fell from his tiresome lips. One would think that the unfortunate man would give up after trying unsuccessfully to bed her for 28 years, but apparently he was unable to take a hint. Maleficent could never have believed the day would come when she would find herself grateful for his dogged persistence, but it had arrived on a quiet Wednesday in February.

She’d been on her way back to the pharmacy with a late morning cup of coffee when she spotted Regina slipping through a door near the Intensive Care unit. It was marked with an Exit sign, but was controlled by an elaborate keypad mounted to the side. No other exit in the hospital required that level of security, not even the ones on the locked mental ward. Her own dispensary had no such security measures to guard against theft of the vast array of narcotics it contained. Whatever was on the other side of that door was a bargaining chip that Maleficent was certain would serve her well in the days ahead.

Whale was the hospital’s Chief of Staff, so it was a good bet he knew something about the secrets Regina was so determined to protect on the other side of that door. She finally accepted his invitation to have a drink after work the next day and found herself in a booth at the Rabbit Hole nursing a whisky cocktail called a Casanova (she did so enjoy irony after all) while the good doctor ordered his third martini.

When the fairy arrived home that night, she was in possession of the key code that would open Madam Mayor’s exit door and a piece of information that would require a visit to the pawn shop.

She had no idea why Rumplestiltskin had supplied Regina with the Dark Curse. She knew only that it was likely not for Regina’s benefit but for his own. The curse had begun to weaken when Emma Swan arrived in Storybrooke. Even if the clock in the library tower had not begun to mark time again, Maleficent was powerful enough to feel the vague promise of magic that hovered just out of reach these past weeks... the possibility that the new arrival had carried in her wake. It heralded the end of the curse, and she was certain that Emma Swan would be the one to break it.

The imp must know it as well, and yet it was his manipulations that installed her as sheriff. He wanted Miss Swan here, so he must also want the curse broken. It appeared likely Rumplestiltskin and Regina would find themselves at odds when the final battle that had been foretold came, and Maleficent was determined to leave that battlefield unscathed. There would be much to do come morning.

  
=========

  
She arrived at Storybrooke Hospital in the early hours and made her way down the silent corridors to Intensive Care. The code Whale had let slip opened the door she had seen Regina enter and, as she had suspected, it led not out of the hospital at all but further in.

She moved down a dimly lit hallway that looked like a service corridor until she came to another heavy door with a harsh notice in thick red lettering, **“No Trespassing, Violators Prosecuted”** Surprised to find that this door had no keypad, Maleficent reached out and eased it open, peering around the edge to find an empty landing with a door at the far end which opened onto a staircase leading down to a sub-basement level that the hospital shouldn’t have.

Moving to the stairwell, she leaned out to peek through the open doorway. She could see a nurse’s station that was currently unattended, so she ventured down several steps and leaned out to get a partial view down another long corridor, this one lined with doors that looked more like cells than hospital rooms. It was the Evil Queen’s dungeons come to Storybrooke, she realized. Maleficent understood then that she need go no further and moved back up the staircase, retracing her steps and moving back out into the hospital the way she had come.

Perhaps she should lay eyes on the girl herself, but it hardly seemed worth the risk when it was evident Whale had been telling the truth. Deep in thought, she made her way out to the parking lot and headed for home. She knew well the value of the knowledge she now held. She must consider carefully how to approach the Dark One with it.

  
=========

  
He was in the back room of the pawn shop when he heard the bell over the front door. Regina no doubt, come to complain about her latest disappointment. With an impatient sigh, he reached for his cane and pushed himself up from his work table.

He was surprised to see Maleficent making her way to the front counter when he pushed through the curtain.

“Ms Brand,” he drawled, “What brings you in today?”

“Mr. Gold.” Her head tilted forward in greeting. She considered him for a moment before she spoke. “I’ve heard that you have some... unique china pieces.”

His eyes narrowed. Did everyone know about Belle’s bloody cup?

“Well, that depends on what you’re after, Dear.”

“I’ve always been partial to Blue Willow,” she began, watching him a bit too carefully. “I particularly like the doves that represent the two lovers and their undying devotion to one another.”

He was perfectly still, the only movement his hands tightening over the head of his cane and a predatory smile curling along the tight line of his lips.

“What are you playing at, Dearie?”

“I don’t understand.” She was the picture of innocence but for the hint of sarcasm that crept into her tone. “Who wouldn’t appreciate a tale of love so true that it survives all attempts to destroy it?”

The pawn broker drew in a breath and fixed her with his most intimidating stare.

“What exactly is it that you want, Ms Brand?”

“I want to strike a deal, Mr. Gold.”

“If it’s a deal you’re after, the first step is to name the parties involved before we can establish what is required of each in turn. That is, of course, presuming that each has something the other wants.”

“Oh, I believe I have something that you’ll want very much... Rumplestiltskin.”

He raised an eyebrow and tiled his head with a smirk.

“So you _are_ awake,” he began, no real surprise in his voice, “and unless I miss my guess, you woke several weeks ago.”

“The night our new sheriff arrived,” she confirmed. “I don’t expect you to admit it, but I’m guessing you had a hand in our recent population growth.”

“Which brings us to what you do expect. I was under the impression in the Enchanted Forest you had no interest in dealings with the Dark One, Maleficent.”

“Well, we’re not in the Enchanted Forest any longer, are we?”

“True enough,” he allowed. “And just what is it that you have in this new land that you believe I would wish to deal for?”

“Ah well, it seems that we two aren’t the only ones awake here in Storybrooke.” She paused, but he simply waited for her to continue. “There’s a lovely young woman telling tales of true love thwarted by the plotting of an evil queen. I heard the story just last night, and it seems she is quite determined to reunite with her lost love.”

He drew in a sharp breath and did his best to affect a calm he did not feel. He would have liked to wave a dismissive hand but found it impossible to release his grip on the cane currently keeping him on his feet.

“That’s not possible,” he hissed.

“You’re mistaken.”

Was it impossible? Had Regina lied to him all those long years ago? Could he allow himself to hope?

“She died.”

Maleficent shook her head.

“I haven’t seen the girl with my own eyes, but I am given to understand that she is very much alive and very much awake... and I have seen the place where she’s being kept.”

“Where?” The single word came out through teeth clenched into a snarl that should have sent Regina running if she’d been here to see it.

Maleficent forced herself to grace the imp with a serene smile. “Am I to understand that I do indeed have something you’re willing to deal for then?”

  
=========

  
Rumplestiltskin wanted to storm into the mayor’s office, stopping his forward momentum only when he felt his hands close around her throat, but as long as the curse was intact he would have to restrain himself. Just as Regina could not kill Emma Swan without breaking the curse, he could not kill Regina without locking all of them into it forever. He had not plotted and painstakingly arranged every detail just so to get this close to Bae and fail. No, Regina would live... for now.  
He forced himself to saunter through the door of her inner sanctum with all of the uninterested calm of the pawn broker that he was in this world.

She glanced up at him with an impatient roll of her eyes before turning her attention back to a sheaf of papers on the desk in front of her.

“Mr. Gold.” She did not look up. “Im afraid I’m quite busy this afternoon. I don’t have time for unscheduled visitors.”

“Oh, this won’t take a minute, Dearie. As soon as you sign these papers I’ll be on my way.” The words came out in a low growl, quiet and menacing, and they earned him Regina’s full attention.

She looked up to see an impatient Gold regarding her with a burning hatred in his eyes, his teeth bared in a dangerous snarl. He was standing directly in front of her desk with a thick legal document in one hand while the other was closed over the top of his cane in a death grip, an unmistakable sign that he was working very hard to maintain control of his temper.

“What’s this?” she asked, reaching across the desk for the document.

“You will no longer be able to serve as Isabella French’s legal guardian and are transferring those duties to me as of today.”  
He released his hold on the papers when her fingers closed on them, but grabbed her wrist and jerked her forward. His eyes held hers as he leaned his cane against the edge of the desk and snatched up a pen, holding it out to her and hissing, “Please.”

Regina went pale for a moment before the heat of anger flooded her cheeks. Her jaw clenched as she took the pen from his hand, flipping through the folder to find the lines that were marked for her signature. Her eyes flashed and she looked up at him, hesitating with the pen poised to sign.

“Who told you?”

“Sign... please. My patience is wearing thin.”

She lowered her head and watched herself scrawl Regina Mills, furious at being forced to surrender her leverage. The imp watched her sign, then slid the document across the desk flipping it closed and straightening as he reclaimed his cane.

“I believe I told you, Your Majesty, I’m the one with the power here. You will not make any attempt to interfere with Belle, my guardianship, or any arrangements I make on her behalf. You will not harm her in any way or use anyone else to do so.”

“What makes you think I’ll agree to those terms?”

“You have no choice, Dearie. I know the magic word...” And there was that feral grin once again twisting his lips into a snarl. “Please.”

Regina returned his snarl with one of her own.

“You’ve always told me that all magic comes with a price.”

“Oh it does, Dearie,” Rumplestiltskin hissed. “... and rest assured, _you_ will be the one to pay it.”

  
=========

  
A severe woman in a nurses uniform stood up when Whale escorted him down the stairs and onto Storybrooke Hospital’s maximum security mental ward. She was coming around the desk when Whale waved a hand to stop her.

“No need to get up,” he said. “Im just taking Mr. Gold to see Miss French.”

“The Mayor was very clear about visitors,” the nurse began, but Whale cut her off.

“Mayor Mills no longer has any say in Miss French’s care,” Whale informed her. “Mr. Gold has taken over as her guardian.”

“But...”

It was Gold who cut her off this time.

“I’ve made other arrangements for Miss French’s care. After today, she will no longer be your concern.”

He spared one more passing glance for the woman so determined to protect Regina’s interests. Pity he didn’t recognize her. Madam Mayor must have installed her in one of the few properties in Storybrooke that Gold didn’t own, so her rent would not be going up. He would have to find some other means of retribution once the curse was broken, one commiserate with the harpy’s treatment of Belle while she had been her jailer.

He turned his attention to the poorly lit hallway that stretched out past the nurse’s station. It was a dimly lit corridor, the walls a stark gray cinderblock, with heavy doors scattered along it’s length. Belle had been a prisoner here for 28 years. His jaw clenched as he strode off down the corridor, leaving Whale to trot to catch up to him and point out the cell which held his new charge.

“She’s right in here.” Whale stepped in front of Gold and crossed to a heavy metal door controlled by another keypad, this one requiring Whale to swipe a card before entering the code.

The door clicked open, and the doctor moved to precede Gold into the room but the pawn broker stopped him, holding out his cane to block the way.

“I’d like to speak with Miss French in private if I may.”

Whale inclined his head in acknowledgment and stepped aside to allow Gold to open the door himself now that it was unlocked. Perhaps he should have insisted on at least making an introduction, but Mr. Gold was a powerful man, used to getting what he wanted, and the doctor had no desire to antagonize him.

Gold stepped forward, noticing for the first time, the observation panel cut into the door with only a snall circular opening toward the bottom to let in the tiniest glint of light. Caged in the dark for decades because he had been a coward. She must hate him. He hesitated with his hand on the door, and Whale must have thought he was concerned for his safety because he heard the doctor reassuring him.

“She has no real history of violence, Mr. Gold. Only one incident with the mayor years ago.”

She’d had a run at Regina? He couldn’t help the fond smile that softened the hard line of his lips at the thought of his fierce little maid attacking the Evil Queen. He wondered how she would have fared if the odds hadn’t been stacked in Regina’s favor.

“Im sure we’ll be just fine.” He assured the other man. “Shall I find you at the nurse’s station when we’re done?”

Whale was smart enough to recognize a dismissal when he heard one, and he once again inclined his head in acknowledgment as he stepped away and muttered, “Of course.”

Gold turned his attention back to the door and gently pushed it open, stepping inside. The room was even more dimly lit than the corridor, most of the small space heavy with the weight of shadows. There was a sliver of a window high up on the far wall but it let in little real light. A hard narrow cot stretched along one wall underneath it, and a figure sat at the far end. She was tucked into the corner, knees drawn up and head down over them. Too thin, too pale, her once luxurious chestnut curls now an unkempt mass of tangles... but she was here. She was alive. His chest tightened in an odd mixture of joy and rage as the tears formed in his eyes.

“Belle.”

She looked up at him when he breathed her name, those beautiful blue eyes clouded with confusion for a moment before her gaze sharpened, head tilting to one side as she studied him. She unfolded herself from her perch at the edge of the cot, moving toward him slowly. He stood where he had stopped just a few steps inside the door, one hand gripping his cane, the other held out to her in a mute, helpless request for forgiveness. It seemed to take an eternity for her to reach him with hesitant steps and a wary expression on that lovely face he’d never thought to see again, but she was finally stood in front of him peering up into his eyes. Her hand reached out to rest along the arm he held out to her, gripping just above his wrist.

“You’re real,” she rasped. “You came.”

  
=========

  
She heard the lock turn in the door, but had no interest in her visitor. It was just past lunch, so she knew there was no reason for any of the nurses to bother her, and the only person who ever came to see her was the Queen. Perhaps if she just kept her head down and refused to engage, Her Majesty would grow bored quickly and leave her in peace.

But then she heard her name... barely a whisper, in that soft deep tone he used only with her.

She looked up to see a man standing just inside the door. He wore a dark suit, not the leathers she had been expecting. His hair was long but straight, not the wild curls she remembered so well; and his skin, the soft pink of flesh, did not catch the meager light in the room to glow with the golden flashes she had found so beautiful when she watched him at his wheel. Not her imp, then. Perhaps a new doctor... but there was something so familiar about him.

She stood up slowly and moved forward to get a closer look, wary of some trick on the part of her captor. She had heard him say her name, her real name... but perhaps she’d only imagined it. She’d imagined him before after all.

When she reached him he seemed real enough... and those eyes. She had seen that rich deep brown for just a brief moment what seemed a lifetime ago now, but she recognized her love in them nonetheless. She reached out, hesitating, willing him to be real... and then her hand met solid flesh. Her voice was harsh with disuse, and she wasn’t sure she’d have trusted it in such a moment anyway, but she managed to get the words out just the same.

“You’re real,” she gasped. “You came.”

“Yes, sweetheart.” His lips trembled, voice breaking as tears fell from his eyes and the words poured out of him in a rush. “I’m so sorry, Belle. She told me you’d died, and I grieved you while she threw you in this hole to rot. This is my fault. I should have looked for you. I should never have sent you away in the first place. I should have...”

She raised her other hand and laid it along his cheek, and he went silent, nuzzling into her touch and weeping.

“Rumplestiltskin.” She whispered his name just as he had whispered hers. “What Regina did to me is not your fault.” He shook his head, drawing in a shaky breath to object, but she gave him no chance. “You were right, Rumple. She meant to use me against you. I was a fool to listen to her when she stopped me on the road that day. And then after you sent me away, her men captured me on my way back to the castle.”

He drew back and looked at her, eyes meeting hers. “On your way... back?”

She nodded. “Yes. I was coming back to fight for you.”

“But why?” And he seemed truly shocked that she had thought to return to him after he had cast her out.

“Because...” She ran a hand through his hair, smoothing a few strands at the side of his face, before cupping his jaw and holding his eyes with hers. “I met someone who helped me realize that when you find something worth fighting for, you never give up.”

“Oh, Belle.” The tears started again as he pulled her close crushing her against him. She wrapped her arms around him just as tightly and buried her face in the side of his neck.

He heard her next words and felt them as a warm breath against his skin.

“I love you, Rumplestiltskin.”

He pulled her even closer and whispered his reply into her hair.

“Yes sweetheart, and I love you too.”

  
=========

 

Maleficent watched the pair of them in Granny’s diner the following week.

All conversation stopped and every eye turned to the pawn broker as he led the young woman to a booth near the back, both distinctly uninterested in the attention they were getting from the rest of the patrons. Maleficent wondered if they even noticed. They were deep in conversation, Gold explaining that the laptop computer he was going to teach her to use could hold as much information as an entire library, and his lovely companion regarding him with affectionate skepticism and more than a little interest.

And in seconds, Mr. Gold and Isabella French had displaced the writer that had recently arrived in Storybrooke as the current subject of speculation and town gossip. Gold had closed the pawn shop several days ago and retreated to the pink victorian on the edge of town. No one could remember Gold ever closing the pawn shop for anything other than rent day, and that alone was enough to set tongues wagging. Now he was in Granny’s having breakfast with a strange woman no one had seen before this morning. No doubt Whale would add to the gossip, telling the story of Gold demanding the discharge of his current companion from a mental ward at the hospital, and his reputation would become even more unsavory amongst the locals. If they only knew.

Well, she thought, they would remember soon enough.


End file.
